


but if you close your eyes

by coldairballoons



Series: Me and My Husband (We're Doing Better) [2]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jerome Squalor is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Toxic Relationships, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28687875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldairballoons/pseuds/coldairballoons
Summary: In his nightmares, Charles was always back at the lumber mill.(Title from Pompeii by Bastille)
Relationships: Charles/Jerome Squalor, Charles/Sir (A Series of Unfortunate Events)
Series: Me and My Husband (We're Doing Better) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157171
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	but if you close your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> sir has zero rights in this household and i will stand by that until the day i die, anyways, as a gay with relationship trauma, i do be projecting onto a gay with relationship trauma-

In his nightmares, Charles was always back at the lumber mill.

It wasn’t horrible at first, usually accompanied by something odd, out of place--maybe all the workers were actually the same person, sometimes himself, sometimes Jerome, sometimes the Baudelaires. Other times, the logs they were splitting were the odd things, morphing from a tree to a fish in an instant. Maybe the sky was green and the grass was blue, or for some reason, the entire mill was on top of a cloud, or in a bubble.

That part was fine, though incredibly confusing at times as well. No, if his dreams were just oddities and random cameos of the people in his life at the mill, that would be fine, amusing, even.

The worst part came when he walked indoors, saw that all too familiar four-poster bed with the twin-sized bed in the other corner of the room, turned, and suddenly he was in the office, looking at the desk, then up at the man sitting at it. A cigar in his mouth, staring at Charles like he was nothing more than a plaything.

The image of Sir made Charles freeze, question everything--every promise made to him by Jerome, every second he spent at the penthouse, every step he took, even his own life. And worse, when Sir said to step forward, Charles knew he had to.

It wasn’t up to him, as Sir had told him so many times. He wasn’t in charge here, he had no power. They were partners, but there was a hierarchy to things, one where Charles had no autonomy of his own. So he stepped forward as Sir told him to, knelt to the ground as Sir told him to, apologized and thanked Sir for his forgiveness, as Sir told him to.

The nights he tried not to walk indoors, trying to avoid his former partner and his demands, Sir found him--he always did. Charles would run away, to the forest, but Sir would be there, his desk made out of a fallen tree, chiding Charles as though he was a child. Or maybe he would try to climb, somewhere, anywhere, but Sir would be there.

Sir was always there. 

So he knelt as Sir told him to, said “please, Sir” and “thank you, Sir” like Sir told him to, and found himself in countless too-familiar situations--knelt under his desk while he worked, trying to please him, or in their bedroom, doing everything he asked, or even just cooking and cleaning for him, although, it seemed never-ending. 

After all, Sir told him he was special, and whether that was a good thing or not, he couldn’t always tell. Sir told him he was wanted, but whether that meant wanted  _ sexually _ , or wanted  _ romantically _ or even wanted as a human, he couldn’t explain. 

His nightmares would blur, then, before he could experience the bedroom aspects of their relationship again, but Charles could still smell Sir’s cigar smoke even as he disappeared. He could still taste him in his mouth, could feel Sir getting up to leave, making it clear that he was the one who mattered, not Charles.

Never Charles. 

When he would wake up, it would never be sudden--never the jerky motions that he’d always read about associated with nightmares. His eyes would open, he would blink, and momentarily panic, although, he wouldn’t make it visible. After all, if Sir were to see him panic, he would be disappointed in him.

Charles would take a minute to breathe, smelling the air. No cigar smoke, no smell of trees or sap or old machinery or any of Sir’s colognes. He would listen--there was no churning of the saws, no crackling of a fireplace, no wind in the trees outside that would always make him anxious. 

And then he would feel, looking over in bed to see Jerome Squalor laying next to him, a solid weight, with an arm wrapped around Charles’ side, chin dropped on his shoulder. His heart would catch in his throat, as though he was about to cry, and Charles would gently nudge his boyfriend awake. 

Jerome had always asked him to wake him up if Charles ever had a nightmare, and while it did take some getting used to, being able to ask for what he wanted, being held by Jerome was all that he could have asked for and more.

A sleepy noise came from the other man, and he shifted a bit, cracking a sleepy eye open. “Charlie?” His voice came out rough, sleep-heavy, and he held Charles a bit tighter, grounding him, holding him present. “Are you alright?”

Charles shrugged, letting his eyes shut again, breathing in, out… he could smell Jerome’s shampoo, the citrusy smell of his soap a welcome change to the smoke in his dreams, hear cars rushing about outside, and, as Jerome leaned up to kiss his cheek, feel the brush of his mustache against his face. “As well as I can be, I suppose.”

Jerome frowned, pushing himself up with a hand, enough so he could rest his hand atop Charles’ head. Charles leaned into his palm not unlike a cat, and Jerome laughed quietly, fondly, stroking his fingers through his hair. “Were you there again?”

“Yes,” Charles sighed, and opened his eyes again, looking up to see the concerned face of his boyfriend. “And he was there, too.”

Jerome frowned, nodding, but his hand didn’t stop moving in Charles’ hair. It was this point where the pair would usually go silent--if a particular nightmare was too much, Charles would talk it through, Jerome comforting him every step of the way, but on the more bearable nights? They would stay like this for hours, until one or both of them dozed off.

But it felt like Charles’ entire body was alight with sparks, shuddering as he shut his eyes, leaning against Jerome. “I don’t want to remember him.”

“I know you don’t.” Jerome whispered, holding Charles just a bit closer. “And if I could help you forget him, if I could change the past, I would, Charlie.”

If Charles shut his eyes, focused on Jerome, on his hand in his hair, on his lips brushing his forehead, holding his hand and kissing every fingertip, every knuckle, around his wrist, up his arm, feeling Jerome’s lips brush against a small scar on his neck, his jawline, his cheeks, and finally his lips, he could forget the past, if only for a second. He could feel the man who loved him, more than Sir ever did, letting Charles melt against him, letting him break and feel loved, for once. 

Maybe Sir and his broken promises and lies and hurtful words were a thing of the past. Sure, they still hurt, and Charles knew he would never recover from that, not really. Sir would never really be gone from his life, always leaving that little stain in the back of his mind, but… Jerome would be there to help him through it.

  
And as Charles fell asleep in Jerome’s arms, in their penthouse,  _ their _ penthouse, he had the sneaking suspicion that maybe, just maybe, it would be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> haha finally an asoue work (and a break from my murdoch hyperfixation whoops)
> 
> a) shameless promo of my charles playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6V4XXCel6v3rbZb6mHUXhu
> 
> b) please please please come talk to me on tumblr @coldairballoons or discord @coldairballoons#9556!


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